"I'm glad I did," replied Tom, limping around.
"Are you hurt much?" asked Morse.
"No, only a bit of sprained ankle. I'll be all right in a little while, I guess."
"It was great! Simply great!" exclaimed Jack a few hours later, when he and Tom and Bert sat in their room, the smell of arnica filling the apartment, coming from Tom's bandaged ankle. "You sure played your head off, old man!"
"I know I nearly played my leg off," agreed Tom, with a wry face. "I can just step on it, and that's all."
"Never mind, we beat 'em," consoled Bert. "And you did it, Tom."
"Nonsense. It was team work. Sam played a fair game too. That helped a lot. I was afraid of him at first."
"He didn't dare do anything," said Jack. "I told him I'd have my eye on him."
They talked over the plays in detail. Tom was just beginning to feel sleepy when there came a knock on the door.
"Come in," he called, for it was not yet the hour for lights to be out, and even a professor would find nothing out of the way. One of the school messengers entered.